


Closed Mouth Grins: Rigor Mortis

by ERS220



Category: The Rock-afire Explosion (Band)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Blood and Gore, Deathfic, Gen, Gore, Heavy Angst, Insanity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 02:09:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15898770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ERS220/pseuds/ERS220
Summary: On the night of March 4th, 1986, a group of men discover that the outer shell that covers us all can easily be destroyed.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is an edit/rewrite of a fanfiction I originally wrote in late 2015/2016. I hope everyone enjoys it.

The scene was not a pretty one, not in the slightest. When I stepped into the dark, there was a very strong stench of blood. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I switched on my flashlight, approaching the now mangled Dodge Sportsman, blood trickling from the inside like a waterfall. The closer I got to the wreck, the more I felt like abandoning the area, the anxiety growing in my chest as I finally shined the light into a cracked window. There I saw exactly what I was fearing. Mutilated, bleeding corpses of the people I knew and loved. I wanted to wail and scream, but I couldn’t, no matter how much I tried to force myself. It was as if my throat tightened itself, forced itself to stay silent. I quickly ran back to Rob’s van, the man inside giving me an inquiring look.

“Well?” he asked, an air of impatience in his voice.

I stared for a moment, wondering if I should lie to him. But I didn’t. He would investigate himself if he were suspicious, which he indeed was. I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead, and closed my eyes. “They’re dead.”


	2. Chapter 2

Beach Bear’s face looked like it was rammed into the dashboard, as his muzzle was crushed and pushed to the side of his face, and the glass and metal practically scalped him, ripping up what were once his ears into little stumps. It was gruesome, and all it did was give us an idea of what else we were going to see that night. It took Rob and I least 20 minutes to thoroughly examine the damage dealt to every band member’s body, and even longer to carefully remove them one by one, dragging them to our van and throwing them in the back. After what seemed like ages, we finally reached the final body. As we tugged it out, I took a good, long look at who it once was. Mitzi Mozzarella, a beautiful young girl, her life ripped away so soon. Usually so peppy and cheerful looking, the seconds before her end rendered her clammy, her makeup smeared, and the corners of her mouth slightly ripped from what can be assumed was an injury caused by broken glass. Those few seconds of staring felt like centuries. My eyes became watery and blurry. Robert saw me crying, but said nothing, he knowing that a sight like that would render even the toughest man to tears.

He cleared his throat. "Rich, there isn't much room left in the back," he said. “I think we’re gonna have to...”

"Put her in the back seat? Do it, then. Do it. I don’t care. I’ll sit with her," I said, trying to pull myself together. We then headed up to the van for the last time, I carrying Mitzi's body, trying not to look at her face. He climbed into the driver's seat, while I climbed into the back seat, pulling the girl in with me. I sat sideways, pulling my knees to my chest as I examined Mitzi some more. After a moment, I decided to hold her body, reluctantly pulling her closer and putting her limp head on my shoulder. He then started the van, turning on the stereo before driving away. I stared out the window as the wreck grew further away. The stereo’s cassette player whirred quietly as it began to play Red Rain from Rob’s copy of Peter Gabriel’s So. Before that night, I had never really payed attention to the music he listened to on our drives. But now, I listened closely. I felt my chest tighten as warm tears once again began to flow from my eyes. He tried to ignore the sound of my sobs.

Soon, we arrived to our destination, which was not the hotel we had originally planned to stay at. No, instead we headed far from the hotel and drove directly to Rob's warehouse, the previous home to equipment the band used in their shows. I had stayed fairly quiet during the ride there, not counting my sobbing. He at least understood why I stayed quiet. He climbed out of the van, sighing loudly as he looked around and opened up the back.

"Rich! Get your ass out here and help me out," he yelled, not even caring about being caught at this point. I gingerly put Mitzi's body down and climbed out to go help Rob bring the other corpses into the warehouse. As it was with putting them into the van, taking them into the warehouse took a while. But, one hour was far better than the original two. Once we were assured that we hadn't left anybody behind, he turned the lights on.

"They're all here. I want you to stay here while I go take care of the mess in the back."

"What are you going to do? The stains will never come out," I asked. He then snapped at me.

"I said let me fucking deal with it! I'll be back in a few minutes," the man grumbled, then going outside. I then heard the screeching of tires as he drove off to do whatever it was he was to do. I stood motionless as I waited for him to finish his business, trying very hard to ignore the disgusting smell coming from their bodies. Being so close to them for so long was making me sick to my stomach. Soon, it became too much for me, so I had to go elsewhere to sit down. I sat at a table near the exit of the warehouse, my heart fluttering at the sound of footsteps coming from outside. I turned my head quickly to look out of the window, to then learn it was Rob returning from his little trip. I breathed a sigh of relief as the man came into the building, his clothes slightly damp from what seemed to be water.

"There, the van's gone. Drove it into a river a few miles back. Nobody'll see the stains now," he said, managing a pained laugh. "Damn splash it made got me all wet.”

I turned to look at him, slightly bewildered at what he said. Then again, everything was blurry and confusing at that moment. I shook my head a little, and then pinched the bridge of my nose, thinking hard. “What are we gonna do, Rob? Why are we doing this?”

"To keep the profit coming," he lit a cigarette.

It took me a good few seconds to process what he had just said. "Come again?" I asked.

"The band was...is, our biggest source of income. C'mon, you knew that, didn't you? I can't just let them go. I need the money. You need the money. Aaron needs it, too. We can't just let them go,” he jabbed a finger in my chest. "You know we can’t."

I furrowed my brow in distaste. I wanted to leave. I wanted to leave this mess behind and forget about it, forget about everyone and everything, alive or deceased, but I knew I couldn't. As much as I hated admitting it, he was right. We couldn't afford to lose them. The Rock Afire Explosion was raking in the money, and it was benefiting all three of us. Robert, Aaron and I. Especially Aaron. The band was like a family to him, his pride and joy. His life.

"How the hell is that gonna work?" I asked, solemn yet curious. At that point, this whole situation seemed absolutely unreal. I knew it was really happening, but it felt like a dream. I glanced over at the bodies lying haphazardly on the ground as Rob cracked his knuckles, then shrugging his shoulders at me.

"I just don't know yet. We'll figure that out later. For now, let's just get some shut eye. There's a big freezer over in that little room near the front of the building, I'll help you put the bodies there," he said in a nonchalant manner. Another hour passed in which we moved along the bodies, their fur starting to become sticky and cold from the now coagulating blood that had seeped from the cuts in their stiff bodies and from their agape mouths. By the time we had finished, it was already 4 am, and we were both exhausted. I glanced at Rob, taking note of his appearance. He was a sharp faced man, his eyes deep and serious. His jet black hair was smoothly slicked back, and despite his tweed suit being coated with that red, vital fluid, the man still looked clean cut and professional. He glanced at me and smirked a bit. He then began to walk over to the temporary bedroom that was nuzzled comfortable in a medium-sized room right outside of the building, I following. That sinking feeling I knew too well came around again once we stepped inside, for I knew the band had once took residence in there. They often slept in the room when we could not reach a hotel in time, and thus there were remnants of their personal objects. In particular, on one bed near the doorway lay Rolfe's old puppet, Earl Schmerle. The wolf had cherished the little yellow creature. He used him in the comedy skits he performed between songs, except for this night, his last night doing what he was best at. I walked over to the bed and sat, picking up and examining the object curiously. It was a fuzzy little thing with a big, bushy unibrow and orange eyes that matched its patch of orange hair. It had a very handmade feel to it, which caused me more grief, realizing that Rolfe could have put his heart and soul into this thing. I shoved the puppet under my bed, and then laid down. My partner took residence in the bed behind mine, and soon I fell into a deep sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

I woke to a streak of bright sunlight coming from outside. It had seeped into the window of the room and gave it a soft yellow glow. I slowly opened my eyes, then sitting up. I looked behind me, and I discovered that Robert was not there. Worried, I climbed out of the bed and walked over to the main warehouse building. I peeked my head inside, and was relieved to see him there. However, he wasn't alone. Not alone, no, he was with Aaron. It seemed like he had driven to the warehouse in his own car. That sinking feeling came back once again, as I realized we would have to break the news of what had happened to him, if Rob hadn't had done so already. Rob caught me looking in, and he smiled a closed mouth grin.

"Ahh, Richard! You came just in time. This is Aaron, Aaron Fechter. You two have met before, correct?"

"Yes, we have. It's nice to see you again. It's been a while, Mr. Fechter," I muttered. The young man's large, calloused hand reached out to shake mine. Reluctantly, I took it into my own hand and shook. My palms were sweating. Aaron had soft brown eyes and chestnut colored hair, his bangs brushed to the side on his forehead. I had always considered the man quite a character, especially considering how he behaved the few times I had talked with him before now. His speech was sometimes hard to understand; unlike I, who was raised in the North, and Rob, who had only moved to the South as a teen, Aaron was fully Southern, both born and raised. His accent was curious and thick, and quite often he would ramble about his projects, getting louder the more excited he got. He smiled at me, a bit of worry in his eyes.

"Hi, Richard. It's nice to see you again," Aaron said to me in his 'business' voice as he called it, then looking back at Robert. "Now, you wanted to talk to me about my new research on carbohydrillium, right?" he asked, tilting his head slightly as Rob chuckled.

The man's face went from pleased to stern quickly. "No, not today, Fechter," he spat. "Something has happened. Something very bad."

Aaron rubbed his chin, his eyes showing more worry. "Well, what was it?" he asked, his voice raised slightly. I said nothing, and neither did the other man. Rob simply pointed to a drying puddle of cruor that was on the ground a few feet in front of them.

"It's your guess as to what happened, Aaron," he muttered, then smiling slightly. "Unless you wanna see for yourself.”

Aaron's face contorted into a grimace. "What the hell is going on?"

I looked over at them. "I barely know myself," I said quietly, not being able to look the man in the eye I pondered back to the night before. Perhaps Robert felt a bit guilty or scared about the situation, or perhaps not. I couldn't be too sure, for he hid his emotions well, and always had. It was quite astonishing to me, seeing someone be able to remain straight faced and calm even in such distressful times. I was snapped out of my thought once the young man before me began to speak again.

“Tell me what the hell happened. Now."

"It’s your funeral."

Rob pointed a finger in the direction of the freezer the cadavers were resting at. "In there. Go," he announced. Aaron furrowed his brow slightly, his eyes shifting as he warily began to tread in the direction the other man had pointed in. The entire building was silent, the only sound being that of the whirring fan helping power the freezer. My body was as rigid as the concrete floor I stood on as I watched him get closer and closer to the cold storage unit. Time seemed to crawl gradually as he finally reached the freezer, and opened the door to it. It felt as if he looked in for an eternity. I continued to watch until time went back to its normal pace. He stepped back quickly from the freezer and stared at it.

"They're dead," he said coldly. Rob jerked his head in the direction the voice had come from, and he then nodded, eyes closed.

"That's right," he said, emotionless. Aaron stood there for another few minutes, processing had what happened in his head, realizing that this wasn't just a nightmare. He realized that he had essentially lost what once was a family to him. I had been close to the band, but not nearly as much as he was. He helped form it, after all. He introduced all the members to each other, and even named the band itself, 'The Rock Afire Explosion'. I once asked him what that name meant, and he told me, "Well, I'm not sure. I guess it represents us in general, going from something insignificant to something big, like an explosion."

Robert looked at me for a moment. His brisk, concentrated glare sent an troublesome shudder down my spine. Something felt wrong. Well, it was a given something would feel wrong in a situation like this, an almost unreal misery, but this was different than the dread I had been feeling. Something was telling me that this might have been affecting him in a way much different than I had imagined. But I attempted to ignore this feeling, for I was too delusional and stupid to believe it. I thought I was losing my mind, and the reality stand that I probably did. Such a situation could render any man into a senseless mess of a creature. We were all turning into the immense spawn of a looney reality. But I said nothing. He then looked away, as Aaron let out a pained groan. He put a hand on his own chest, and his breathing quickened. It appeared as if he was having a panic attack, all of the pressure of being aware of the arduous phenomenon finally making his foundation crack and split like a decrepit graying brick. Cautious but caring, I put a hand on his shoulder, and softly asked, "Do you need to go somewhere else?"

"Get off of me!" he bellowed, gritting his teeth and forcefully pushing my hand off of his stiff shoulder. "You did this shit, didn't you? You fucking killed them, you did it in cold blood. You wanna see me suffer, you think it's funny, right? That's why ya did it! Look at them!" he said, then looking back into the freezer. He stifled a retch, which stopped him from continuing his rant. At this point, I decided to speak up.

"Aaron," I began, making sure my voice was soothing. "We didn't kill them. Honest to god, we didn't do this. I know you're scared. I really, really know. So am I. But I can tell you now that we did not kill them. We were driving...driving 10, 20 miles back. Dook, I think, was driving Rolfe's van, and he was speeding. He ended up turning a corner too fast, and he... rolled it," I made a twirling movement with my right index finger. "Rolled it at least five times. By the time we were able to stop, I don't think we would have been able to save any of them. The whole van was just completely battered. All the pressure and glass and metal just coming together into a big sharp mess. Nobody can survive all that."

"Rolfe's van?" he asked,. I nodded. "I knew that thing looked familiar," he said. "I passed a really crushed up car this morning while driving here, and I swore it looked familiar. I had my window down, and I smelled something foul as I drove past it. I didn't wanna believe my asinine irrational thoughts. I really didn't. But for once I should have listened to them."


	4. Chapter 4

The remainder of the day was quiet for Aaron and I. There was nothing, at that point at least, that we could really do. We did our best to ignore Rob, who relentlessly scrawled down notes and plans, trying to think up anything we could do. It was appalling. It seemed like he didn't care about letting them rest, or rather, he did, but knew they couldn't do so for long. I spent most of my time in the bedroom trying to tune a crummy old TV I found into any local shows that were being aired. I wasn't doing it for myself, however. I was doing it more for Aaron. I wanted to divert his attention from all the negativity somehow. I felt empathy for the misery he must have been going through, and knew that at the very least a short distraction would benefit him. I doubt it worked, though, for he seemingly ignored it. His eyes were on the screen, but his head was in a different place. We didn't really say much to each other for a while. He just kept staring at the screen, blank faced. I sat next to him and decided to take a look at what show was on to try and distract myself. The picture was fuzzy and dark, but from what I could hear, the channel was airing the local news. It was all the same shit I had heard about day in and day out, the weather and the cold war and more info about the explosion of the Challenger that had happened in January. It certainly wasn't cheery, but it was better than nothing. I looked at him, and then nudged him lightly to get his attention. He looked over at me for a few moments, but then went back to watching the television. I nudged him again.

"Are you hungry?" I asked quietly. "I've got a bit of money on me. I could walk down to that ol' convenience store a few miles back and grab us a lunch."

Aaron sat there for a while before answering. "Yeah," he muttered. I smiled a little, and then stood up.

"I'll be back in an hour or so, then. See ya," I said, standing up. I then walked into the main building, and passed Rob.

"Where are you goin'?" he asked harshly.

"To that convenience store we passed by while driving here. I've got a bit of money, so I thought it'd be nice to get you and Aaron a lunch or somethin'."

"You're gettin' food?"

I nodded.

"Hm...” Rob said quietly, looking up from the narrow table his papers sat upon. "...Tell you what, Rich. When you come back, I want you and Aaron to eat out here with me. I think I've got some sorta idea for what we can do."

The man looked down and smiled a bit, then looking back up at me. “You go on ahead and get us somethin' to eat if you insist. I'll be here," he turned away and began to work again. I then stepped outside, stopping for a moment to take in the scenery. The sky was radiant, and there was a crisp but pleasant breeze. However, I didn't stay out for too long, for I looked down at my clothing, and was rather forcefully reminded of the night before. My suit was soaked with old blood. Hurried, I quickly removed my jacket and undershirt, and threw them in a near-by bush. Thankfully, the blood hadn't soaked into the tank top I wore under it all. I looked a bit silly, wearing dress pants with a tank top, but it would do for the moment. I then began to walk the few miles to the store, quite enjoying the alone time. It was time to unwind, and forget about the whole situation for the time being, at the very least. As I went in to grab the men a lunch, I began to question what this whole ordeal was, and my role in it. Why hadn't I stopped him? I could have stopped him from taking their bodies. Why didn't I do anything? Am I too stupid to think for myself, or am I just as bad as he is? The questions were running through my head, and the more I thought about them, the more heated I became. I bought our lunches, and then went into the public restroom, washing my face in the aged sink to cool down. I looked up into the mirror. There I saw a man. A husk of a man. His face was neutral, but his eyes told a story of fear and confusion, uncertainty of the future that was yet to come. I shuddered and left the bathroom, heading back to the warehouse with three Cokes and three ham sandwiches in a flimsy plastic bag. As I walked, those thoughts from before came back to my head. I kicked a large rock to get my mind back into order. 

Soon enough, I returned to the building, and quietly walked in, and then put the meals on the narrow table Rob had been using earlier. Curious as to where he was, I went around the building, searching for him. My search failed, and so naturally I went into the bedroom to check if he was there. Indeed, he was. He was sitting on the bed with Aaron, watching the small TV with him. I knocked on the wall to get their attention. "I'm back, and there's food on the table," I said. He smiled slightly.

"Ah, yes. Good. Come eat, Fechter," the black haired man said to Aaron. He then stood up, and began to walk with me back into the main building. The other man warily followed behind us. "Rich, I think this idea just may work," he said to me. "I thought about it the whole time you were gone, and you know what? I'm damn sure we can pull it off."


	5. Chapter 5

Our meal was minuscule, but filling enough to keep the three of us from complaining for a few hours at the very least. Aaron silently sipped on the now warm Coke in his shiny glass bottle as we both looked over at Robert, who smirked with confidence in his proposal. "This," he said haughtily, then pulling a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and laying it flat on the table, "is what we're gonna do, boys." Aaron and I looked at the paper carefully. On it were scribbles of device composed of pumps and a chamber. Next to it was a crude drawing of a stick figure with its arms down by its sides. There were tubes running from the pumps and chamber to the figure, and arrows pointed to a liquid labeled 'blood' being pumped into the body, and another arrow pointed to a tube pumping something else labeled 'oxygen'. 

Aaron looked up at Robert and furrowed a brow. "What the hell is this supposed to be?" he asked, perplexed.

Robert explained, "This right here is an autojector, a heart-lung machine. It pumps blood and oxygen into the body, and they mix together to become, well, oxygenated blood. I remember watchin' a video a few months ago about some Russian experiments that took place in the 40's. They had this dog head, and they made an autojector that mixed in the blood and the oxygen and all that together. That dog's head was still alive! They poked it in the eye with a damn stick and it blinked. It still moved on its own just by pumpin' in some oxygenated blood. If the Russians can do this shit back in the 40's to a dog's head, I'm pretty sure we can do that with the band."

"And just how will that work?"

"I ain't got a clue. You're a smart guy, Aaron. Aren't you some sorta engineer?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Good. I need you for this to work. I need you to build the components," Rob announced.

"Are you out of your mind? Who said I would agree to this?"

Robert slammed a fist on the table, making the both of us jump. “I did! I said! You listen to me from now on, you got it? You do what I say or I break your fucking ribs with a metal pipe. Got it?” he yelled. I couldn’t help but stare at him, in shock.

He straightened his tie and smiled. "So, you’ll do it," he stated. Aaron nodded shakily. Rob then gleefully clapped his large hands together. "Ahh, perfect! The band'll be ready to perform again in no time. I'm pretty sure we've got all the materials we need right here in the building, so we don't have to spend much money on any of it."

"What about the blood?" I asked. I was morbidly curious.

Robert chortled, amused. "Those bodies probably still have enough blood to use. If not, I guess I can get some blood from some sort of animal, like a pig," he responded, then smoothing his hair. "I know there's a farmer around this area that would be more than willing to kill somethin' for us for the right amount of cash. I could take out a deposit and offer him some of it, and then we'd have it just like that. Hell, I think I might take Aaron's car over to that farm today to do it," he mentioned, looking at the other man. Aaron said nothing, but nodded in approval. "Ah, perfect! I'll go do that right now," said a now cheery Rob. Aaron silently took his car keys out of his pocket and handed them to Robert, who stood up and then motioned for me to follow him outside. I then hastily did so. He strutted along with a bounce in his step, which was quite unlike how he had dragged his feet along only one night prior. A sick feeling began to form in my stomach as I watched him walk, and my mind went to the band and all of what had happened before the crash. Robert had seemed so ecstatic about how they had done that night, incredibly pleased with their performances. They had played a few classics, like 'Born To Run'. Beach always did so well with that song; it was his favorite to play. He would always strum that guitar so proudly and would belt out the lyrics without a single care in the world. To think that the night before was the last night I would hear him sing or have a pleasant, intellectual conversation with the well-spoken polar bear just made that sick feeling grow stronger. I felt a hand pat me on the back. "You alright? You look pale as all hell," asked Robert.

I managed a weak, awkward grin. "I'm fine," I said, then taking a deep breath. My stomach settled, and I looked over at Aaron's old vehicle, some Chevrolet model from 1973. "I take it you want me to go with you?"

"Actually, no. That's not why I pulled ya out here, Rich. While I'm gone, I want to you make sure Fechter doesn't do anything stupid, you hear me?"

"I hear you," I replied.

"Good. I can tell his brain ain't right. All this is probably driving him crazy. Crazy people can do stupid, stupid things..." he said, his voice trailing off. He stopped to appreciate the fine weather, and then snapped back into reality to unlock the door of the car. "I'll see you later. Don't forget to watch him," the man said to me. The car's engine revved, and then he began to drive off. I waited until I was sure he was gone to go back inside. When I returned, I was struck by the melodic notes of an acoustic guitar. My mind knew where the sound was coming from, and knew who had to have been producing it, but it was still curious. I knew it was Aaron, but I didn't know how he had gotten hold of an instrument. I traipsed to the bedroom, and peered inside. The man was sitting on the same bed from earlier, and held in his hand a square, wooden guitar. There was not a doubt in my mind that it had been one of Billy Bob's spares that he had kept around for safe keeping. Snapping, I was able to get his attention.

"Aaron? Why are you doing that? If you want something to do, just watch the TV."

He looked up at me and quietly responded, "I've been doin' that all day."

"You've got a point. Where'd you find that?"

"Billy kept this spare under his bed."

"I see," I responded. I sat down next to Aaron, and watched him strum the strings for a little while. He stopped abruptly.

"What the hell is goin' on in Rob's mind?" he asked me. "He's talking garble like this. You know. Bring the band back? That ain't happening."

"I know they aren't gonna come back," I retorted, rubbing my forehead with my thumb and forefinger. "All I know is that he's got some plan in his head, and damned if we don't have to help with it."

Aaron sighed. "I feel guilt, Rich," he told me.

I didn't quite understand what he was trying to say. "Hm?"

"I know you two didn't kill them," he said, staring at me. "I knew you couldn't have."

"Then why did you blame us?"

"I didn't wanna believe that this actually happened by chance. I didn't wanna admit that this was God's work, because I don't wanna say that God might have been wrong about taking them. My parents said God can never be wrong, but this is just..."

"Just what?"

“...not fair," he admitted. "The entire band, just gone in the blink of an eye. Didn't even get to see their last show. I was having car troubles, and by the time I got it fixed, it would have been over, so I just stayed home," he said, choking a bit. His eyes began to water, and at that point I put my hand on his back.

"It's ok, I understand," I said, hoping to make him feel a bit better. It didn't end up working, as he snarled at me.

"No, you don't understand, you really don't! You got to see them for a last time, you got to hear their voices for a final time, and I didn't! Do you understand how close I was to them? Don't you get it? They were all I had, Richard. They were all I had, and now they're gone, and so now I have nothing. I tried to give them everything they could ever need in life. I got them to this point, and they were there for me in the end because of it, because I was the one who helped shape who they were. I just wanted to see them get somewhere in life, and I did, but they didn't get to live that life for long. It's just not fair."

Sighing, I thought about what he had just said. Although I had felt close to them, Aaron was right in saying I truly didn't understand. I had only known them for a year, while he had known them for much longer, and had made them into what they were at the time. A large wave of guilt took over my body as I realized how disrespectful I must have seemed. "Aaron, I didn't mean to piss you off. I just shouldn't say anything about them for now on."

"That can't happen," he said. "Whether we like it or not, we have to talk about them. We can't just actively ignore all this. Robert is making us be involved. It hurts, but we can't. It's like a big flashing light right in front of our eyes."

I stopped for a moment, and then nodded, and said nothing more. Aaron and I stayed silent for what seemed like forever. I simply watched him play notes on Billy's old guitar.


	6. Chapter 6

Robert entered the warehouse after about an hour, a large smile on his face. "Well, well! You two are lucky. I got the deposit from the bank a couple miles from here and gave it to that farmer I was talkin' about. He gave me eight gallons of old pig and cow blood! With that, I'm thinkin' that we can start building this device tomorrow," he said. He then tactlessly continued. "There's still something we've gotta do today, though. The bodies need to be gutted."

Aaron's face became a bit pale at his words. "You could have worded that better," I hastily said, trying to push that thought out of my head. I didn't want to think of doing such a thing, but in the end I knew we would have to do it anyways.

"My apologies. As I was saying, we have to do that today. All those organs'll rot if we keep 'em in, and that won't be good, no sir. Richard," he smiled at me. "Since I came up with the idea, and Aaron will be building it, it looks like you're gonna have to do this part. Here, I grabbed a knife from a box in there. You can use it," he said. Sighing, I held my hand out, and Rob put the knife mentioned in my hand. It had a splintery black rosewood handle and a pointy blade, which was dark from age. I wrapped my cold hand around the handle, and then went towards the freezer, feeling the men’s gazes. I was tempted to bolt from there once again, and leave everyone involved behind. But again I reminded myself why I was staying here. Taking a deep breath, I walked to the freezer and opened the heavy door. The frigid air poured out and I shuddered, goosebumps raising on my skin. 

Inside, the bodies were carelessly piled amongst each other. There were ice crystals beginning to form on their fur. I approached one. I was able to identify it as Dook LaRue, the mutt who had been driving the van in the first place. His grotesque face had a rather blank expression. His eyes were glazed over, and appeared empty. I looked away, and dragged his body closer to the door of the freezer, for there was a garbage can to put the innards in near there. The first thing I had to do was remove his clothing, since it would have gotten in the way of my cutting. Gingerly, I took the knife and cut away at the silver threads. It didn't take too long to remove his clothes, only around 10 minutes. His bare corpse lay in front of me. It was surreal to see him like this, completely defenseless and naked. He was nothing but an empty shell at this point. I stared at Dook for a few more minutes before pressing a finger into the skin of his furry stomach. Feeling around, I was able to find a good place to start slicing in. Once again grabbing the tool, I positioned the blade in the area where my finger had been. I was shaking, and my brain screamed at me to stop. It wailed and screamed, but I had to ignore it, ignore its piercing loudness. I closed my eyes and then slowly pressed the blade in, feeling it effortlessly break into the flesh. What little blood that was left in his body oozed out quietly. The sight made my stomach churn heavily, and I had to turn away for a moment to stop myself from losing my lunch. I had never imagined myself doing such a thing to a person I had cared about, and to this day remembering it shakes me to the core. Dragging the blade, I made a large incision from below his ribs to the beginning of his pubic bone. There was still a thick layer of fat and muscle beneath, and the blade had only partially cut into them. Reluctant, I tried to dig the blade in deeper. The layers were tougher than the initial layer of fur and skin, and I ended up having a hard time. Over and over I took the knife out and stabbed it back in, trying to get it to cut the tough tissues. Eventually I was able to cut through them. At that point, all that was left to do was to remove the organs that lay in the fleshy crevice. I looked down at my hands. They were coated in the red fluid and bits of fur. Looking at my hands, I felt like a murderer. A good for nothing murderer. Even if he was dead, it felt like I had defiled him and took whatever life he had left away from him.

My hands shook, and caused me to drop the tool I had been holding. I backed into the wall, sliding up it to stand up. I didn't want to be there anymore. I didn't want to be involved, no matter the reason. The things Robert had told me had made me drunk with an anticipation I should have ignored. My vision was tunneling, and I kept telling myself to leave. Before I had been able to resist the voice, but now, it took control. I began to sprint, sprint out of the freezer, and out of the building. I passed Aaron's car, and I passed the trees and the rocks. I was running down the road at this point, not quite knowing where I was to go. All I knew was that I had to get away from them. My heart slammed against my chest as the brisk air filled my lungs. All I wanted was to go back to the times before the crash, back when the band was alive. Back to the times when Fatz and Dook would talk to me backstage, back to when Rolfe would perform his skits for me to see, back when Mitzi would sing in her dressing room, and we would all listen, but say nothing and never admit we did. I wanted it all back, but I knew it wouldn't happen. 

I must have ran about a mile before finally having to stop to breathe. I sat down on a patch of dirt and looked down, trying to think clearly. As I sat, I began to hear a noise coming towards me. At first, it sounded like a hive of buzzing hornets, but as it got closer, I identified it as the sound of a running engine. It gradually became louder until it sounded as if it was close to me. I looked up, but it was too late then. A car came slamming into my body. It had knocked me into a tree a few feet away, and the pain was immense. Closing my eyes, I grit my teeth and attempted to sit up against the wooden base. A few moments passed before my eyes opened again, my attention being brought to the familiar Chevrolet that sat before me, engine running, exhaust pouring out of the back. In the car was the same man with the same black hair and the same professional look. He got out of the car and approached me, his face giving him the appearance of being cheerful. I knew better. Rob grabbed my arm and nearly dragged me to Aaron's car. He shoved me into the passenger's seat and then got in on the driver's side.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Are you stupid?"

I looked away from him. "I don't know what I’m doing."

"Then why were you runnin' down the god damn road?"

"Something told me to get away from this," I said coldly. Robert then grabbed me by my shirt.

"Listen here. You can't just leave me with all this to deal with. Do you think I enjoy this? Do you? I can't just pull this off without you or Aaron. I need both of you. We need the money, and the only way we can keep it coming is by keeping them around, alive or dead. I've told you this already, haven't I? If you leave, then you're gonna be stuck being a broke ass man who won't get hired despite his good work ethic. Nobody wants to hire a man who had a chance to earn good money and just dropped it because they found it 'unethical'. The real world has no empathy. Everything out there is fueled by cash, and you're gonna have to deal with it if you wanna get by in life. You got it? Now I'm gonna drive us back there and you're gonna finish your job. Then I'll let you go home, ok?"

I looked at him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," he said, staying quiet for a few moments. "You know, I've still got a soul. I'm just as shaken up as you and Aaron, but dammit, I'm not gonna just drop everything to mourn. Business comes first, and by god this plan is fool proof. I'm sure you know what I mean. But, anyways, I know you need a break. I should have let you go home yesterday and just dealt with it myself."

"How is this plan fool proof, Rob? Won't people be able to tell that they're dead?" I asked.

He snickered slightly. "You know, Aaron makes a lot of stuff. He makes those 'electronimated' robots."

"What about them?"

"Well, you know what we can say? If anyone starts gettin' curious, we can just say they're robots."

I furrowed my brow. "But what about all the people who've seen them backstage?"

"We'll just say they're crazy. They were always robots. If they claim they saw 'em movin' around backstage, just say they were imagining things. Besides, I don't think that'll happen. We moved around so much that I doubt anybody would see the band more than once. Now, let's go back so you can get it over with," he replied, putting the keys in and turning the engine on. He had turned on the radio, and although I didn't pay attention to the song playing, I was reminded of the night before where I had held Mitzi's body and listened to Red Rain.


	7. Chapter 7

We soon returned to the warehouse. "Tell me when you're done, alright, Rich? I'll drive you to your house whenever," said the man as he got out of the vehicle. I nodded and opened the door, trying to ignore the pain that moving caused. I stumbled awkwardly into the warehouse behind Robert. When we entered, we found Aaron sitting at the table, fumbling around with some small plastic tubes and other things.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Trying to make a mini model of the final pump," he responded, not looking away from his work. "If I'm being forced to do this, I might as well get it over with quick..."

Robert interrupted him. "Well, Fechter, I'm glad to see you finally start to work on it. I appreciate it."

"...Heh, yeah. I'll do anything to keep the Rock Afire around," Aaron mumbled, finally looking up. I froze up when his eyes met mine. Those eyes of his no longer expressed fear or depression or anger. They had seemingly darkened, and instead expressed something I couldn't quite explain. It was chilling. It seemed like Aaron Fechter had finally lost the last little grip on reality he had. My hypothesis seemed to be confirmed by the freezer. I glanced at it, and noticed that the door was open, and the cold air was blowing into the building. I looked closely at his hands. They were stained slightly with red. Perhaps he had looked closer at them while we were gone. A final look at the only thing keeping him sane. Look at them, touch them, and confirm that they really were gone for good. Confirm that God wasn't wrong, and that God had nothing more for him.

"Rich? Go on and finish your job."

"Oh, right," I responded. I looked at Aaron for a few more seconds before heading to the freezer for the last time that night.

Dook LaRue's naked and cut corpse was still sitting there, waiting for me to finish and remove the innards. I did so in silence, carefully pulling out his intestines. I should have felt disgusted with myself, or sick from the horrendous sight, but I felt neither. In fact, I don't recall feeling anything, like I was numb. I don't remember thinking about anything at the moment, either; just the task that I was supposed to finish. The parts felt pliable, fleshy, and smooth in my hands, and they made a gentle plop as I put them in the garbage can. I didn't keep track of the time it took to do the deed, but I know it wasn't long. I pushed his cold body aside, and then pulled another body towards me. This time, it was Rolfe DeWolfe. I thought back to his puppet, Earl, that I had found in the spare bedroom as I stared at his face. When he was living, he had a perpetual blush on his cheeks that helped make him devishly charming. The two whitish fangs that stuck out like a human's buck teeth only added to that. I shook my head at my thought and then proceeded to do as I had done to Dook: remove the clothing, make an incision from the bottom of the ribs to the pubic bone, cut into the extra tissue and fat layers, and then remove the organs. I ended up finishing Rolfe much faster than the previous body, and by the time I had grabbed Fatz, I had made a sort of a game out of seeing how quickly I could do the job. I finished Fatz, and then Billy Bob. Beach Bear, Looney Bird, then Mitzi. Before I knew it, I had finished disemboweling everyone that was in the band. I had organized them so that they all lay together neatly near the back of the freezer, ready for whatever Robert was to do with them next. Hurriedly, I walked out to the main room. Approaching the black haired man, I said, "I'm finished. Let's go."

He nodded in approval.


	8. Chapter 8

Once again we were in that Chevrolet. It took a bit of time for me to realize that we were now going down the road, for I wasn't paying attention much. My mind was busy with other things. After a fair while, I looked over at Robert. He was fumbling with the radio, trying to turn it on. He was getting more and more frustrated with it. "It turned on fine last time," he grumbled. I looked forward again. He vented more of his frustrations. I said nothing. A sudden loud yell made me jump nearly clear out of my seat. "God dammit!" was what he had yelled. Again I had turned to look at him. To my surprise, he had big wet tears streaming down his face at an uneven pace. His crying was vocal, though he attempted to stifle it. Business had come first, and now was his time to mourn. He had let me, and so I let him. Eventually we arrived at my house. He had sobbed most of the way there, and I had ended up falling asleep. He woke me, and unlocked the door so that I could exit. Before I did, he said to me, "II'll pick you up after we finish everything up. Could be a few hours, could be a few days. I'll see you then. Try to get some sleep, Rich."

I nodded, and he looked me in the eyes for a moment before I headed towards my house. His eyes were like Aaron's in a way; the way they told more than his words could. He then drove away.


	9. Chapter 9

Immediately after entering my house and turning on a light, I shuffled to the kitchen and grabbed myself a small meal. I was tired and prepared to sleep, but I was also hungry. I had grabbed a cold can of Pepsi and warmed up some leftover cornbread and roast beef I had gotten from a diner a few days before, and then promptly devoured it. It wasn't as flavorful as I had expected. Afterwards, I cleaned my plate and discarded the can. I then turned on the hall light, and opened the door to my bedroom. There was an unusual chill when I did so; a cold wind that made me shiver a small bit. The room was just as I had left it on Tuesday: window open, blankets piled loosely on the bed, TV pulled close to the foot of it. I sat down and looked at the carpet as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. All I could think about, no matter how much I told myself not to, was the band. Thinking about them exhausted me even more, but I knew trying to fight it would yield nothing. I felt another breeze come from the window, and I decided to look up. There, to my shock, I saw a familiar face leaning against my wall. It was Fatz in all of his New Orleans charm. I knew right then and there that I was dreaming, but didn't dare wake myself up. I had somehow remembered the rumors my mother used to tell me of the haints that would creep up upon you if you tried to wake yourself from a dream. The gorilla clicked his tongue and shook his head in a disapproving manner at me.

"Rich, Rich, Rich, ain't you gon' make it to the show? Aaron's gon' be there, and so'll Esmerelda. She finally says to me, 'Fatz, jus lemme see how good you is at performin'!' Can you believe that?" he asked, strolling over to me. He put a leathery black hand on my shoulder. Again, I knew this wasn't real, but the pressure on my shoulder almost felt as if it was. I always hated dreams like that. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. He had interrupted me as if I had already answered. "You sure? Well, you gon' have to tell Mitzi then," was what he had said. Then in a horrific quickness, he took his hand and pinched his own cheek, effortlessly peeling the skin off. Before muscle could be exposed, he was gone, and in his place was the young mouse. She looked very lovely, but not in the usual way. Her blonde locks were in pigtails, as always, and she wore a t-shirt with a Smitty's Super Service Station logo on it (a shirt she had gotten long ago for her birthday), along with some acid washed jeans and sneakers. She looked lovely in a normal way; she had charm only a teenage girl could bring.

"Rich, are you comin' tonight? Oh, please do! Pretty please! I promise I'll do real good, I'll sing that one song you like!" she whined. She opened her mouth to say more, but the room went dark. I heard a high pitched scream come from what I assumed was her. I covered my ears, but it wouldn't stop. I then jolted awake. My heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest. I wiped my forehead and looked at the fancy electric clock that sat comfortably next to my TV. The time read 3:47 AM.

"Did I really end up passed out for that long?" I asked myself. I felt childish being so afraid of a nightmare, but I couldn't help that. They were truly dead, and seeing them talk in that dream made the fear I should have felt when handling them show up late. He peeling off his face and the gal screaming didn't help, either. Is that what she sounded like before she was killed? She was all pretty in her makeup, wearing the cheerleader's outfit she had adored so much. She had no idea that anything so terrible, so permanent, would happen. I felt nauseated at the realization. My mind kept on about it. She must have been sitting in the back seat with the men, chatting away about how well the show had gone, and how she couldn't wait to go out and eat with them. They always considered her almost like a little sister, or a daughter, and so they just smiled and chuckled at her enthusiasm. Beach would have been clicking his teeth as per habit while Dook asked for directions in his usual slight daze that seemed to never end. The nausea grew stronger. 

I kept imagining. Perhaps Rolfe was cracking jokes about how Aaron was starting to get wrinkles, and how he had wished the man had been there so he could inform him of them. They would all laugh, and that laughter would stop as fast as it started when they turned a corner and began to tilt. Those laughs turned to wails of fear, and again, as fast as they started, they stopped. I was brought back to the present when I felt my dinner lurching up my throat. I covered my mouth and sprinted to the bathroom. I then vomited. Feeling scared from the imagination and a bit lethargic from expelling my food, I decided to then go to bed properly. I turned off the lights in the kitchen and hallway, and then changed into clean pajamas. I turned off the bedroom light, and stood for a moment, gazing at the moon that was shining bright through the now closed window. It brought comfort I did not understand. I climbed into bed and pulled the covers up close to my body. Perhaps proper preparation would yield dreams about things other than the obvious.


	10. Chapter 10

I woke up around 1 pm. I had slept, but it had not given me energy. Those wretched things from the night before stayed with me throughout the entirety of the day. Mentally, I was drained; nothing was achieved that afternoon or evening. At one point after using the restroom, I stared at myself in the mirror. My own eyes were tired, and a bit darker than usual. The expression in them was reminiscent of Aaron's. Had I lost that grip as well?

"Rich, it's me. Aaron finished them all up. Damned quick, eh? He worked all day and all night. I'll pick you up in a few hours. See ya then," was the short and simple voice mail I received from Robert the next morning. I was surprised by how quickly they had gotten the deed done, but I was also nervous. I didn't know whether or not I wanted to see what they achieved. I imagined a scene out of a horror film: sluggish corpses, moving in such a way that would set off my uncanny valley. That wasn't too far from the reality of it. I grunted and sat on the couch, rubbing my temples gently. I didn't have a bit of energy, and I knew I couldn't stay home when he arrived. He would be angry, and I would most likely be out of a job if I protested. I couldn't risk it. When the time came, Aaron's car horn pierce my eardrums. Looking out the window, I saw the car pull up. I left my house and approached it, peering inside. As before, it was only the black haired man. Opening the door and sitting down, he smiled at me. He greeted me with his usual brisk tone. "Long time no see. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," I lied. It was apparently unconvincing, as he just shook his head. With that, he drove me to the warehouse. Nothing else was said until we stepped inside the building once again. I almost felt comfortable being there again, the smell of stale rot and cheap air freshener thick in the air. I had been looking at my feet as I walked, and I didn't want to stop doing so. I was not as enthusiastic to see the set-up as Robert might have thought.

With a steely bark, the man spat, "Look up. Look at them."

I kept staring at my feet. A hand seized my chin and yanked my head up too fast for me to resist. There, I saw them. I knew they had once been my friends, living creatures with heart and soul, but at that moment, they did not seem that way. They were simply uncanny beasts. Their bodies were kept up with thin metal poles, while their feet were bolted to pieces of thick wood. Their fur was clean, and they were clothed, but their faces were still twisted and empty of life. Eyes still glassy and blank. Before, I didn't have to look them in the face. But now, I had no choice. Only out of the corner of my eye did I see Aaron slowly turn on a machine that had been near the bodies. I suspect it was what gave them 'life'. I don't remember much of what happened after that moment, except for the emptiness I felt as I stared at them. They began to move in an unnatural way. They jerked around quickly with slight effort. I was amazed at what Aaron had accomplished, looking back on it years later. But at that moment there was nothing inside and nothing in sight other than the newfangled movements of what was once the real Rock Afire Explosion. I am not a smart man, and I do not know the internal components to the machine, but I do know that if Aaron had ever released it to the general public, he would have been forever remembered as a huge contributor to science and the knowledge of how the body works. That's not how it worked out. Aaron was never remembered for his achievements in science and engineering. He was simply remembered as the lad who invented 'Whack A Mole'. To this day I feel intense guilt for not paying much mind to what he talked about when it came to engineering, and for not realizing his intense passion for the band. The band he helped form, and led to greatness. His band. He was a genius with an unfortunate, never-ending bad luck that eventually broke him and took the last thing keeping him sane. I looked away from them for only a moment to look at Robert. I nearly jumped when I saw that look in his eyes. That same look Aaron had a few nights earlier: the look of his outer shell snapping into tiny pieces, revealing what lay beneath the charm and intimidation he used for his gain. He had hidden it considerably well during those few nights. I think time stopped right then, for me anyways. I was fairly certain I was hallucinating when I looked down at my hands and saw them rapidly cracking like porcelain. They did not bleed. Terrified, my eyes looked at Aaron and Robert, crying for help silently. The men did not move or breathe. It was almost like they were watching me with pity. They went away, and everything around me went white, grey, then black.


	11. Chapter 11

When next I awoke, I was laying in my bed at home. I knew none of that was a dream, so I was rather confused. I looked over at the electric clock, and it stated the time was 8:24 AM. I noticed a piece of paper folded up neatly next to it, and I grabbed it. I read it groggily. It stated that I had passed out that night after seeing the band's new form, and once again Robert had driven me home. I found it quite thoughtful of him to have placed me in my bed. At the end of the note, it said, "P.S.: You've done a lot of good things for us. You don't have to see them again. We can have meetings at your house, or through phone calls."

I looked at Rob's signature on the bottom, and smiled ever so slightly. Perhaps he had some form of a conscious left inside.


	12. Epilogue

I don't think anybody involved ever really forgot about that fateful night of March 4th, 1986. Six wonderful, talented creatures died that night, and from then on, their bodies were toyed with like ventriloquist dummies. I didn't see them again after the night I passed out. I kept all memories of them that I had, but I never got a proper goodbye. Instead, I was hit in the face with crippling mental health issues for the next decade. Constant depression and remorse, and a slew of physical tolls on my body from these. I was rarely seen outside of my home for that time.. I never said anything to anybody. Robert passed away from natural causes on the 10th anniversary of that night, and I attended his funeral. While there, I was the only person that was not sobbing. I just felt like a blank slate. Business had to come first, and I would mourn later. Breaking down at a funeral would have been petty, and would have made me look weak. I didn't want to be weak. 

It's been so many years since all of this took place, and yet I sit here now on this bridge, thinking back to it all. It’s dark other than the moon’s pale light reflecting on the water. The wind was rough, and I have to fight against it to keep my balance on the railing. The water is so still, so very still. I stare down at it for a little bit, thinking more. Guilt fills my mind. Sickening guilt. I take a deep breath, and let myself fall. Time seems to slow, and I smile to myself. I am finally free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, here's the end. I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
